


Don't miss it, don't even be late

by Kacka



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Multi, POV Multiple, POV Outsider
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-21
Updated: 2017-10-21
Packaged: 2019-01-21 00:24:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,787
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12445278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kacka/pseuds/Kacka
Summary: It's suspicious when their friends start ditching them at the fair, but it's also hard to tell whether they're scheming to get Bellamy and Clarke alone, or if they have their own romantic motivations...





	Don't miss it, don't even be late

**Author's Note:**

  * For [AshesAndDrums](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshesAndDrums/gifts).



> Because FOREVER ago Ashleigh asked for "Bellarke get stood up at the fair by their friends (because they're tricking them into a date) and they get stuck on the ferris wheel)" and I saved this to write until I'd actually been to the fair again.

Raven is the first to beg off, mostly because she figures that if she doesn't, the others will chicken out of the plan. She's got to be the one to get the ball rolling.

"Y'all go ahead," she says, sneaking a peanut from the paper bag in Miller's hands. He glowers at her and she smirks. "I think it's going somewhere with that guy."

While the rest of the group had wandered down the packed aisles of the exhibition hall, Raven had stopped to rest at the booth with the handmade porch swings. Her knee was usually fine with exercise, but a long day of wandering the fairgrounds had put strain on it, and when she'd tried to adjust her gait to give it some relief, her other hip had begun to hurt.

Basically, she'd been looking for a reason to separate herself from the group in order to get Bellamy and Clarke the alone time they didn't know they wanted. If all their friends abandon them at the fair, it's pretty much a date by default, she figures. Even the two of them, obtuse as they are, will have to recognize that there's something between them, and if they don't, Raven is more than happy to keep finding ways to shove them together until they do.

The guy at the booth across from her swing had caught her attention quickly. For one thing, he was handling knives with great skill, giving what was clearly a practiced vegetable-chopping demonstration. For another, everything about him screamed _hookup_ _potential_ , from the rumbling voice to the deftness of his hands to the appraising glances he kept throwing her way. Combined, of course, with his impressive musculature. She'd started flirting with him across the way and he'd responded in kind and now her excuse to her friends isn't even a lie.

Clarke, unsurprisingly, frowns. "Are you sure you don't want us to wait? We can hang around. Circle back for more free samples, check out those massage chairs--"

"Nah, I'm good." Raven waves the suggestions away. "I'll catch up with you later."

"Okay," says Monty, easy. Maybe _too_ easily, if the suspicious glance Bellamy gives him is any indication. "Text us if you don't want a ride home."

"Yeah, but like-- text us a copy of his license and registration," Bellamy amends. Raven gives him a look and he crosses his arms at her. "His profession is _traveling knife salesman_ ," he points out. "If ever there were a quintessential serial killer profession..."

He means well, Raven reminds herself as she rolls her eyes.

"And be back before midnight or I'll turn into a pumpkin, I got it. Catch you losers later."

Miller flashes her the middle finger when she grabs another handful of peanuts before she goes and she pelts his back with the empty shells.

Roan's demonstration-- the fifth she's seen in the thirty minutes she's been hanging around-- is just about winding up when she gets back to his booth. His salesman's mask slips a bit when he catches sight of her, the tilt of his lips enticing, but he doesn't miss a beat. Clearly, he could give this spiel in his sleep.

With a faux interested expression, she picks up one of the boxes of his product, flipping it over to look at the back. As if anyone will care why she's loitering. It's the fair. All there is to do is loiter in different venues.

"You in the market?"

His question is sudden and _close_. Raven jumps a little and gives him an unimpressed look that only feeds his smirk. The way he rocks back on his heels takes him out of her space some, but not nearly enough.

"Not sure," she hums, looking up at him through her lashes. "Tell me about their carbon steel composition again."

He cocks his head. "I can't tell if you're being facetious or if hearing me talk about alloys is actually something you're into."

She feels her lips twitch upward, her delight their mirror as it curls in her gut. "Little of both."

"In that case..." He sidles closer behind her, breath warm on her neck as he goes into more depth about the makeup of the knives, their durability and flexibility, how all her _needs_ will be met, each of his selling points sounding more and more suggestive.

"I'm not much of a chef," she shrugs when he finishes, her knees feeling shaky. And not because of the strain this time. "These would probably end up wasted in a drawer somewhere."

"Perhaps you need another demonstration."

"I've seen your demonstration enough times I could probably quote half of it along with you."

"I was thinking something more personal." He moves out of her space, just far enough that she can turn to face him. "I could show you how useful they are in preparing a meal. Say... dinner?"

"Are you offering to cook for me?" Raven asks, amused.

"Well, you're going to help. So you can get a feel for the product."

His eyes are alight with good humor and promise, with no expectations to be found. And that's... a nice change. A really nice change, after Finn who only really knew the Raven of his childhood and Wick, who wanted more than she could give. She hadn't thought of anything more with Roan than dragging him off to the most sanitary and private place they could find, but to her surprise she finds herself agreeing.

"Excellent." He pulls out his phone and hands it to her to input her number. "How does tomorrow sound?"

"Works for me." She pauses. "I assume you have a dinner break at some point tonight?"

"I have someone coming to relieve me. What did you have in mind?"

"I keep seeing people walking around drinking smoothies out of a pineapple and I'd really like to track those down."

"A quest," he says, with apparent seriousness. Raven snorts and he smirks again, like that was his plan all along. "I'm in. I've also got a couple of stools behind the counter if you'd like to wait."

She smiles and jerks her chin at the rather large family that has slowed to peer at the knives. "Sounds good. And who knows? Maybe the sixth demonstration is the charm."

He gives the family a broad, friendly, distant smile that reaches his eyes only when he turns to give Raven another knowing look.

"I certainly hope so."

* * *

Nate jumps about a foot off the ground when Monty pokes him in the side, yet the glare he shoots his way is toothless. It's kind of a problem of his when it comes to Monty.

"What was that for?"

"You look like you can smell the livestock, which I know you can't because they're way on the other side of the fair."

"And you decided the fix for that was to poke me?"

"What's wrong?" He presses. "Maybe I'll be able to help, and then that can be our reason to ditch Bellamy and Clarke. Which would be good, because all the excuses I've come up with are terrible."

"It's nothing," Nate says, offering him the bag of peanuts. He takes one, dutifully cradling the empty shell until they pass a trash can. He even swerves out of his way to reach it because it's Monty, and littering is unthinkable to him, and Nate really shouldn't find that so endearing.

"I bet it's not nothing," he says when he gets back. "You should tell me. You'll feel better. Maybe. I can't actually promise that."

Nate cracks a smile. "It really isn't a big deal. It's just-- You remember my ex? Bryan? I was on Instagram just now and saw that he's here today too."

"Oh." Monty makes a face. "Awkward."

"Yeah."

Nate and Bryan had ended on amicable terms, but things are still a little weird between them. They'd dated for so long, stayed together through a bunch of shit, and then when they were finally in the same place and should have been happy, they just... weren't. They'd both changed, and didn't quite fit together anymore.

It felt to Nate like if they were going to break up, they would have done it when there was some hard life event that weighed on the relationship until it broke. Instead, they just didn't make each other happy. And that's hard to come to terms with, even if he knows he's happier on his own.

"It's fine," he says, running a hand over his head. Bellamy keeps threatening to buy him one of those hats that looks like the poop emoji and it's making him paranoid that he somehow got it on Nate's head without him noticing. "There are like ten thousand people here today. I doubt we'll run into him. Especially if we avoid the poultry tent."

"He likes to hang around with poultry?" Monty asks, raising one eyebrow skeptically. Nate smiles.

"He raises chickens. I think a couple of them even won ribbons this year."

"Huh."

"I can't tell what that means."

"It means... huh. I didn't know that was your type." He reaches for another peanut. It doesn't escape Nate's notice that he doesn't mind sharing them with Monty half as much as he minds sharing them with everyone else.

"Sorry, you didn't know I like nerds who are passionate about their weird niche hobbies?" He gestures toward Bellamy, who is keeping obnoxiously close to Clarke even with the crowds around them. "Exhibit A."

Monty laughs. "Good point. But hey, I think we could actually use that, you know? Tell them we're too close to where we think Bryan is and go back toward the kiddie rides."

"And what's your excuse for coming with me?"

"Buddy system," he grins. Nate shakes his head.

"They're just going to insist on coming with us, you know."

"Maybe not." Monty sounds confident, but then, Monty usually sounds confident. "If all else fails, we just slip away while they've got their backs turned."

Nate snorts. "Solid plan."

They regroup when they hit the stand with the roasted corn, Monty joining Clarke in line while Bellamy steps to the side, texting Octavia to see if she's arrived yet.

"Still trying to find parking," he mutters to Nate, annoyed on his sister's behalf. "Serves her right for not asking off work."

"Yeah, how dare she." He rolls his eyes, then beans Bellamy with a peanut shell.

"Why."

"Bryan is here."

"What?" Bellamy looks up sharply, eyes scanning the crowd. "Where?"

"Here at the fair, not here in my line of sight. I saw it on Instagram."

"Oh." He pauses, like he's calculating how much to worry about Miller's emotional state.

"I told Monty and he thinks we should steer clear of the livestock in general. Which I'm not opposed to. My motto is, if you've seen one turkey, you've seen them all."

"Sure, yeah. I don't care. The midway on that side isn't as good as the main one anyway. Although... I think Clarke wanted to go look at the amateur photography, and that's over in the wrong direction a little bit."

"It's cool." Nate looks down into his peanut bag, studiously sifting through them to find the best one so he doesn't have to meet Bellamy's eyes. "You guys can go do that and I can get some one-on-one time with Monty."

"Yeah?"

He can _hear_ Bellamy's smugness. Which is stupid, as Bellamy is even further from admitting his own crush than Nate is. If he weren't such a dumbass, Nate might feel a little worse about agreeing to Raven's let's-ditch-Clarke-and-Bellamy plan.

"Yeah, I'll go win him one of those giant, stuffed Charmanders. That's got to work as a seduction technique, right? It wouldn't seem so Hallmark-y if it didn't have potential."

"Impress him with your athleticism and then give him a stuffed Pokémon as a token of your affection," Bellamy says dryly, then frowns. "Come to think of it, that might actually be the correct way to Monty's heart."

"That's what I'm saying. You guys won't mind if we split off?"

"Yeah, yeah." Bellamy waves a hand vaguely. "Do your thing. Clarke and I are cool on our own."

"Well, I wouldn't go _that_ far," says Nate, then laughingly dodges the elbow thrown his way.

If Monty is surprised by how little resistance Bellamy and Clarke put up when they go their separate ways, he doesn't show it. He just keeps pointing out people's weird outfits and providing snarky commentary as they stroll through the sunlight, and it might be Nate's ideal way to spend an afternoon.

Monty is the one who wins the Charmander, but Nate can't bring himself to be too upset about it.

"Sorry it isn't one of the big ones. I don't actually have fifty dollars to spend on beating rigged games."

"This is better anyway," Nate says, struggling not to smile as he tucks the Charmander under his arm. "Easier to carry. Will definitely fit in the car. All around the best option."

After a moment, Monty tugs the bag of peanuts from Nate's hand. He's about to protest, mostly because he feels like he should, but instead of snacking Monty simply shifts the bag to his other hand and wraps his free hand around Nate's.

It's almost hard to breathe for a moment.

When he gets his wits together again, he feels Monty's thumb sweeping back and forth across the back of his hand.

"In case we run into Bryan," he explains, looking forward rather than directly at Nate. "I can pretend to be your new boyfriend, and then you'll win the breakup."

He laughs softly, still feeling like the wind has been knocked out of him.

"I don't really care about winning the breakup," he admits. "But-- you could be my actual new boyfriend, if you wanted."

"Oh," says Monty. For a beat, Nate thinks he horribly misread everything about the past hour. But then-- "Yeah, that sounds a lot better."

"A _lot_ better," Nate agrees, squeezing his hand.

Monty pauses. "So, I'm really intrigued by the fried Oreos. Want to split them with me?"

"Sure." Nate smiles. "Lead the way."

* * *

"O says they finally parked and are headed for Gate 5." Bellamy twists his mouth to one side, reaching for the map in Clarke's back pocket without a second thought. "I'm pretty sure that's on the opposite side from where we are, though."

"You know she's heading straight for the turkey legs," Clarke muses, picking up a corn husk doll and smiling faintly at it. "She's been talking about those for weeks."

"She definitely won't be coming here. She hates the Village of Yesteryear."

"Her loss," Clarke shrugs, putting the doll down and smiling at the woman running the booth before moving on toward the guy cutting paper silhouettes with a small crowd gathered around him.

Bellamy does like this building, primarily for all its history. The artisan crafts sold here are the same ones that have been sold here since the eighteen hundreds, and the history nerd in him gets really excited about it. Most of their friends get bored in this building, but Clarke, at least, appreciates the artistry of what these people do. Though he suspects she's putting up with it largely because he wanted to come in here.

"Okay," he says, as they slip out the exit and into the evening air. The sun had begun to set while they were inside, painting the sky with rosy hues, and there's a cool breeze that's making him glad he'd worn his flannel, despite how much he was sweating earlier. "We've done what I wanted to do. Your turn to pick."

"You know what I want to do."

Bellamy groans but follows behind her as she sets off for the main midway, at the end of which stands the biggest of the Ferris wheels at the fair. He knows this is Clarke's favorite part, especially at this time of night, when all the attractions are beginning to light up, but his policy is, and always has been, that if it takes less than a day to put a ride together, that's not a ride he's getting on.

"Really, Princess? You can't wait until someone else gets back to--"

"If you haven't noticed, all our friends have ditched us. That leaves you and me, Blake."

Bellamy pauses. "You know," he says, reaching over for her hand, "I have noticed that."

She grins and lets him tangle their fingers together, swinging their linked hands between them contentedly.

"They think they're so sneaky," she says, swaying closer as the crowds press in on them. "They're probably patting themselves on the back right now, thinking they pulled one over on us."

He grins and squeezes her fingers with his. "Little do they know."

Little do they know that Bellamy and Clarke fell together weeks ago. Little do their friends know that it was of Bellamy and Clarke's own volition and not because they were tricked into being alone together. They hadn't intended to keep their newfound relationship a secret, but nobody had noticed, so they just went with it.

He can't say he's exactly upset at this turn of events, or anytime he and Clarke find themselves left alone during what are ostensibly group activities. It's sweet of their friends, if manipulative and unnecessary. But he's not going to say no to an impromptu date with his girlfriend; he's just going to gripe about her taste in fair activities.

"I don't trust this thing," he mutters as they join the end of the snaking line to ride. Clarke winds her arms around his waist, struggling to repress a smile.

"Yeah, but like you said-- you already had your turn to pick."

"You _like_ the Village of Yesteryear. It's not what you'd pick first, but it isn't going to kill you."

"I don't know, that whittling dude looked pretty shifty."

Bellamy levels an unimpressed look at her, trying not to let himself be swayed by the humor in her eyes or the shape of her lips as she tries not to laugh at him. "He was probably eighty years old, Clarke."

"It's never too late to follow your dreams, Bellamy." She tucks herself further into his side, resting her chin against his shoulder. "Come on, it's just one ride. I'll make it up to you."

He gently pushes until she disentangles herself so they can follow the line as it moves forward. "I don't know..."

"I'll let you pick on Netflix night for my next two turns."

"And get me some of that apple cider on the way out."

"Fine," she rolls her eyes. "Then you don't get to complain about the ride while we're on it."

Bellamy sighs dramatically, because he likes to act as if he wasn't going to ride it the first time she asked, just because he's kind of a sucker for Clarke Griffin.

"Fine. But if we die, I'm going to haunt the shit out of you for eternity."

"Yeah, that's fair."

He'd never admit it, to Clarke or anyone else, but it is kind of nice. With Clarke under his arm, cuddled close to him in the bucket seat, the wind whipping more as they ascend, the fairgrounds alight beneath them, it's almost romantic. If he could stop thinking about how much it would hurt to fall to his death from such a height.

"Hey," she says softly, pressing her murmur into the warmth of his neck. He shivers and turns to her, but before he can say anything she kisses him, sweet and soft. 

"Hi," he grins when she draws back. "What was that for?"

She shrugs and hides her face in his shoulder, peering out at the sights as their seat rocks back and forth. "Just wanted to."

Bellamy kisses the top of her head. "Cool, feel free to do that anytime you feel like it."

"That's the plan."

Finally, the wheel fills up with new riders and the ride starts its uninterrupted revolutions. If the jolting starts and stops were bad enough, Bellamy _really_  hates this part, especially when the seats swing wildly. He'll be ecstatic when they're back on the ground again.

It isn't until the ride slows and he feels Clarke's hand stroking his side soothingly that he realizes how tight he's been clutching at her. He loosens his hold a little, patting her hip in apology. She just kisses his collarbone where it peeks out from the neck of his shirt and thankfully doesn't seem to be laughing at him.

The ride jerks again as they start to let people off at ground level, but when they reach the very top, it seems to last much longer than Bellamy expected.

"Um," he says, swallowing hard. "This is probably just me freaking out, but does it seem like we've been up here longer than normal?"

"It's probably nothing. Maybe it's a little kid who's just taking forever, or a handicapped rider or something. I'm sure it's fine."

"Would you tell me if you thought it wasn't?"

"Definitely not."

He snorts softly. "Thanks for that."

"Anytime."

Several minutes later, new lights appear. These aren't the bright, colorful bulbs of a fair attraction. Instead, they're red and flashing and accompanied by intermittent, brief bellows of a siren.

"Uh, Clarke-- Are they coming our way?"

"...Possibly."

Her phone starts to ring and she swipes it open immediately. "Hey, Monty. Where are you guys?"

"Yeah, us too. We're actually on the Ferris wheel right now. Do you know what--" She pauses to listen, her face growing more serious. "Okay. Yeah. See if you can-- Yeah. And... tell them to hurry? I don't want Bellamy to have a panic attack up here."

He makes an indignant noise but falls silent when she swats at his chest with the back of her hand.

"Okay. Sounds good. Thanks, Monty."

"What's going on?" He asks when she hangs up. She gives him a contemplative once-over.

"Apparently a pregnant rider went into labor and they don't want to move her until the EMTs can get to her." She pauses. "If she's close enough, they might keep us here for a while."

Bellamy curses and lets his eyes fall closed, trying to ground himself in the feeling of Clarke's hand stroking his hair apologetically.

"I'll make it my next three turns on Netflix night for this," she offers, scratching at his scalp. "I'm so sorry. If I'd known--"

"Yeah, how dare you not predict that this was going to happen," he says, offering her a wry smile. She smiles back and tugs on a curl reproachfully.

"Okay, but I still feel bad--"

"Clarke, it's fine. As long as I don't think about it too much, it won't be a big deal. Just-- distract me?"

She hums and settles back in against him. It's almost easy to block out the rest of their situation at this point, between the darkness and her closeness. All things considered, though, Bellamy wishes they were safe with two feet on the ground.

"Did I tell you what Monty said when we were in line for corn?"

"No."

"He asked if I minded him and Miller going off on their own so he could get some alone time with him." Bellamy can't see her face at this angle, but her tone _sounds_  like an eyebrow wiggle. He has to smile.

"Miller said the same thing to me."

"Yeah?" She's smiling too, he can tell. "You think that was part of their evil plan?"

"I don't know. I hope not. They'd be cute."

"Yeah, Monty has liked him for ages. Since he was with Bryan. Almost as long as I've had a thing for you."

"Exactly how long is that?" He teases.

"Remember when we all went to the museum for your birthday?"

"That was like two years ago." He buries his face in her hair. "You're telling me we could have been doing this for two years?"

"Probably longer," she muses. "If we were less stubborn. As much as I hate to admit it, I think we deserve their scheming a little bit."

"You want to tell them."

"I really do," she laughs. "I want to hold your hand whenever I want and kiss you whenever I want and not care about being too obvious, because everyone already knows anyway."

Bellamy laughs too, shifting his hold so he can slip his hand under the hem of her shirt, resting against the warmth of her back. "That sounds good to me."

"Yeah?"

"Yeah." He grins. "Besides, if they gloat at us, we can gloat right back. They didn't realize for almost a month."

"True. And really, if that doesn't make it worth it, what will?"

"I'm saying."

In the end, it's only about 45 minutes before the wheel starts moving again. Bellamy lets out a long exhalation of relief but doesn't scoot away from Clarke, not caring at this point who might be waiting for them at the bottom.

He's not surprised to see their whole group huddled near the house of mirrors next door, Miller with his arm around Monty, Raven holding a pineapple with a tiny drink umbrella peeking out of it, and O and Niylah finally making their appearance. They don't notice Bellamy holding Clarke's hand at first, all of them talking over each other to explain how the woman had been far enough from actually giving birth that they had time to load her into the ambulance and take her somewhere more private. 

Octavia is the one to see it at last, stopping mid-sentence to scowl in disbelief.

"Are you telling me this stupid plan actually _worked_?" She demands. Raven is the next to catch on, following her line of sight and beaming.

"Of course it worked," she says, smug as anything. "I'm a genius."

Clarke smirks back at her. "Yeah, a genius who didn't notice for--" She looks to Bellamy in mock thought. "How long has it been now?"

"About a month?"

"Yeah, sounds about right." He smirks too, can't help it. Miller looks affronted, Raven, like she isn't buying it, and his sister looks downright murderous. Niylah and Monty mostly look like they want to laugh. "And before you get mad that we've been messing with you, just remember how much you've been messing with us, and we'll call it even."

There's a beat when no one says anything before Raven snorts and shakes her head, the remnants of her smirk still on her face. "Yeah, okay. I'll give that one to you guys."

"I won't," Octavia grumbles. "I can't believe you didn't text me, like, the _second_  it happened."

"What was I gonna do, stop making out with Clarke so I could update you on my relationship status?" Bellamy teases, falling into step beside her as they head back up the midway. Ahead of him, Monty is needling Clarke for details and her fond exasperation sparks something warm inside him.

"I'm not saying I _wanted_  a text immediately. I just literally can't wrap my mind around the fact that you didn't shout it from the rooftops. You were that pathetic." She ducks when Bellamy goes to grab her in a headlock, dancing away from him with a giddy, teasing smile. 

"You're pathetic," he grumbles. She pats his arm consolingly.

"Keep telling yourself, big brother. I'm happy for you guys."

"Thanks. So am I."

They squabble about whether Bellamy, after all his lying, really deserves the handful of kettle corn he says he does, keeping at it until Clarke falls in with them, taking Bellamy's hand in her own again. He's sure the novelty will wear off soon, but for now it's sort of thrilling to not care who might be watching them. To be obvious about how crazy about her he is, and not care who calls him out on it.

"Anything else you want to do before we head out?" Clarke asks, tracing his thumb with hers.

"Just that cider," he grins. "Don't think that I've forgotten, Princess."

"Oh, I would never."

Octavia gets drawn into bickering with Monty, and Bellamy lets their pace lag, giving him and Clarke a little bit of privacy. 

"Good night?" She asks. "In spite of everything?"

"The best," he grins. "You?"

"Same."

"Good." He grins. "That being said, there's no way I'm getting on that thing again with you next year."

Clarke scoffs. "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."

And even though they've not been together long, there's no doubt in Bellamy's mind that they'll be back here together next year, or for many years to come. 

He's got a good feeling about this one.


End file.
